


i think about you when i sing

by florabee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, natemac & landy make brief appearances, someone had to give tyson advice and gentle bullying okay, this is just. cavity-inducing self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florabee/pseuds/florabee
Summary: willy was just easy to be around, was the thing. initially, tyson hadn't thought so but he had been wrong.
Relationships: William Nylander/Tyson Barrie
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: William Nylander prompt fest





	i think about you when i sing

**Author's Note:**

> title from mallrat's "charlie" bc i have a brand apparently
> 
> is this good, like, objectively? no, but it's hella cheesy & i had fun writing it. also rare pairs are nice challenges sometimes

The locker room after the Canes game was loud and chaotic in a way it had only been once or twice all season, and Tyson took his time getting ready to go, wanting to soak in the excitement, and he cast half an ear on the chatter around him. 

He overheard Johnny tell Muzz and Spezza how excited he was for Jace’s first Christmas, that Mitch was going to his parents’ place that evening and apparently Auston was joining him the next day with his family, and Kappy and Freddie’s families were on their way.

“What do you have planned, Tys?” Travis asked..

Tyson gave a shrug and a smile, “My family doesn't really get together for Christmas so I’m gonna chill out while I have the chance.” He was incredibly grateful Travis took him at his word and merely nodded; he understood that it was a bit odd but Tyson was long past the point where being alone on Christmas really bothered him and he’d call his family regardless.

Movement from the entrance to the showers caught his eye and he glanced up to see Willy wrapped in a towel. Willy being a knockout wasn't anything new to Tyson—it was just a fact and Tyson wasn't blind to it, thanks—so he went back to shoving things in his bag before something clicked and he did a double take.

Earlier Willy had been smiling and laughing with the others while Mitch got the game ball. Now though, Willy’s default half smile was nowhere to be found and instead he looked...sad? Upset? Whatever exactly it was, it didn't sit right with Tyson and he frowned.

All but a few of the guys had cleared out by that point so Tyson sidled closer to Willy’s stall, grasping at straws in his head to start a conversation.

“Got family coming in, Will?” Well, it was good enough.

“Hm?” It took Willy a couple of beats to acknowledge the question and he was clearly out in space. “Oh,” he said, “uh, no, we don't uh. It's kind of hard to coordinate one day when everyone’s so scattered so we usually don't bother.” The longer he spoke, the more apparent the sadness was. Tyson hated it.

“Come to mine then.”

Willy’s eyes finally focused on Tyson’s and the surprise on his face had Tyson backtracking fast.

“Just, I mean like—there’s no reason for both of us to spend Christmas alone so uh—I mean, only if you want to, obviously, I—”

“You’re sure?” Willy cut him off, and his tone was hopeful instead of...whatever Tyson had been expecting. And if that made his stomach do some weird butterfly shit, well, that wasn't the immediate priority and he'd deal with it later like he’d been doing for weeks.

“Yeah, I do,” Tyson replied, a gentle smile on his face, “Come around say, eleven? We’ll eat some food, chill out, become one with the couch cushions, whatever you want.” Willy nodded and offered a small smile in return,

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

_T minus 40 hours_

“What’s up, Brutes?” Gabe sounded vaguely worried, which, fair, given Tyson didn’t call much these days but this was an emergency.

“Okay so, I’m going to give you a hypothetical situation, and you’re gonna give me your answer and you’re not gonna laugh at me, deal?” Tyson got straight to the point as he settled more comfortably on his couch.

“Tys, what did you do?” Gabe’s concern was gone and in its place was the usual fond exasperation he usually directed Tyson’s way.

“Nuh uh uh, Landy, this is purely _hypothetical_” he scolded, “Keep up, bud.” Gabe snorted and it was times like this Tyson wished the rest of the world would catch up to how much of an inelegant dork Gabriel Landeskog really was.

“Okay, okay, my bad, go ahead.”

“So say I had a teammate, a Swedish teammate, who seemed a bit sad earlier and who was going to be alone on Christmas. And I invited him to my place because I want to help? I guess? So I was wondering if you, in your hypothetical wisdom, might have some ideas of what to do for the food? Hypothetically?”

There was a long pause before Gabe spoke, tone absolutely incredulous,

“You want me to give you a mini-primer on a _julbord_ so you can... make Willy feel better? Is that what's going on here?”

“Well, if that means Christmas food then yeah. But when you put it that way, it sounds dumb,” Tyson grumbled, fidgeting with the pen he had put on the coffee table before he called.

“No, no, I think it's sweet,” Gabe reassured him. “I just gotta ask, though. Is this like a ‘being a good friend thing’ or an ‘I’ve had a crush on him for like two months and this is me making a move’ thing?.” Gabe’s tone, light and sharp and a bit protective, had Tyson suddenly flashing back to Worlds two years prior, sitting at a table in a bar with Nate and a tipsy, grinning Gabe who was talking about Willy being awarded MVP, all glowing affection and pride. Oh, right.

“Uhh, it's mainly the first one but uh. Second one isn't, like, _wrong?_ Like, I just want to make him...happy? I guess?” Tyson hoped the admission would bring this almost-shovel talk to an end because this was just getting painful quick.

Another pause and then, “Cool,” perfectly calm like Gabe hadn't just been ready to vaguely threaten him from two time zones away. “So to answer your question, there's a few dishes you could make but with Will, you're definitely gonna want to pay attention to the desserts...”

Tyson shook off the emotional whiplash and picked up his notepad and dutifully started taking notes.

_T minus 26 hours and 30 minutes_

“Why do people wait until the last minute to get food for Christmas?” he asked, maneuvering around a couple who refused to detach long enough to give anyone else room to shop for a bag of flour.

“Hate to break it to you, Brutes, but you can't really talk,” Nate replied, and Tyson could hear that he was trying not to laugh. Cinnamon and vanilla made their way into the cart.

“But I'm different, I didn't have plans made until yesterday! They've had time, Nate.” Tyson took a sharp turn and headed for the dairy aisle, smiling apologetically at the woman whose ankles he’d nearly taken out in the process.

Nate finally gave up trying to be nice and was now clearly laughing at his expense.

“And that's your fault for inviting him over.”

“Nate,” Tyson whined, “What was I supposed to do? Let him be alone and sad on Christmas?” He placed eggs and almond milk in the cart, eyes scanning the shelves for the right coffee creamer.

“No,” Nate snorted, but his voice wasn’t teasing now but soft, fond, “No, you wouldn't do that, Tys.”

Missing Nate was always in the back of Tyson’s head but at this particular moment it was loud and clear and deeply aching in the forefront. He knew Nate felt it too.

“And besides,” Nate continued, lighter now, steering them both away from crying in public, because really that's just who they were. “You do the desserts right and you might just win him over. And then he'll show his _appreciation_—”

“Nate!” Tyson yelled, flushing bright red, which only served to set Nate off on another round of obnoxiously loud laughter.

“Shut up, that wasn't funny!”

_T minus fifteen minutes_

_Just hear those sleigh bells jingling,_  
ring, tingle, tingling too.  
Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you… 

Tyson hummed along to the music as he observed his kitchen. It had taken longer to clean up than it had to whip up all the food but it was more than worth it.

He checked on the meatballs in the crock pot and then, seeing the time, put the kettle on for the tea Willy preferred.

He had timed it perfectly; just as he finished stirring in a bit of honey, the doorbell rang. Mug still in hand, he opened the door to see a softly smiling Willy, with a bottle of wine in one hand and a small bag in the other.

“Hey,” Tyson greeted, just a half beat late, too caught up looking at Willy. “Come on in.” He moved aside and Willy stepped inside.

“Oh here, let me,” Tyson reached for the bag and the wine so Willy could get his coat off.

“Thanks,” Willy said, head tilting at the mug in Tyson’s other hand as he took the bag back. “You don't usually drink tea, trying something new?”

“Uh,” Tyson said, eyes going to the floor as he felt a blush creep up his neck. “No, actually, it's uh. It's for you. Food’s got a little bit longer to go so I, uh, I figured you might…”

Willy took mercy on him as he trailed off, reaching out for the mug and cradling it in one hand before taking a careful sip. Tyson tried his best to not stare.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” he said, so genuine that Tyson lost any and all trains of thought for a long second before recovering hurriedly.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He led Willy further into the house, gesturing towards the couch, where Ralph was eagerly awaiting someone to pet him. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

He took the wine into the kitchen and set it aside before checking up on the food again. Timer on his phone set, he rejoined Willy in the living room. One controller was in Willy’s lap, in what little space Ralph allowed, the other on the couch cushion next to him.

Tyson looked between the controller and the playful smirk on Willy’s face before responding with his own grin, “Okay, yeah, you're on.”

Willy was just easy to be around, was the thing. Initially, Tyson hadn't thought so, had mistaken Willy’s quiet friendliness for distance but he had been wrong.

There had been a game under Babcock, Tyson didn't care to remember exactly which one, but it had been bad. And the next practice had somehow been worse, leaving him sitting in his stall wondering when his play had gone to shit long after everyone else had left. Well, almost everyone. Tyson had finally stood up to leave, a small surprised noise coming out of his mouth when he saw Willy sitting across the room looking down at his phone.

At the sound, Willy had looked up, put his phone away, and walked over to Tyson, bag over his shoulder. He hadn't said anything, had just waited patiently for him to grab his things before leading him out to their cars.

Willy had driven them to a quiet, unassuming restaurant, where they had been lead to a corner booth tucked mostly out of view, and Tyson had expected either bright optimism, a guarantee that things would be better with no proof to back it up, or awkward silence, because he wasn't entirely sure what to make of Willy.

Instead it had been Willy pointing out what he thought Tyson might like on the menu and then leaving him be, while he played on his phone, and smiled at the server, and waved at a small child sitting along the opposite wall with that soft smile of his. No expectations or nudging for Tyson to talk about what was on his mind, no overly cheerful platitudes, just an easy quiet. And for some reason, being able to sit and process and eat had helped. A lot.

“Why did you stay?” Tyson had asked on the way back to Willy’s car. It had been the first thing he had said to Willy throughout the whole trip.

“Because you didn't seem like you should be alone,” Willy had said it like it was simple, and Tyson realized that, to him, it was.

After that, it was easy to see that what Tyson had thought was distance was really just Willy’s particular brand of gentle care, never loud or pushy but warm all the same, understated and steady.

It had taken about a week after that for Nate to brutally point out the fact that Tyson had like, _capital-F Feelings _ while they were FaceTiming one night, which he had been trying very hard to ignore. When he had said as much to Nate, the reply he'd gotten was an eye roll and a suggestion that he not waste time.

And maybe he had wasted some time, but Willy was here, on Christmas, and Tyson had a chance to make him feel as cared for as he had made Tyson feel that day so making the most of it was the only option here.

The timer on his phone went off, startling Tyson and causing him to immediately die on screen. He huffed over Willy’s laughter and stood to retreat back into the kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” Willy asked, already leaning forward to place his controller on the coffee table.

“Nope,” Tyson answered, “No, you're good, I’ll let you know when everything’s set.” If Willy noticed how rushed his answer was, he thankfully didn't comment.

Tyson’s nerves made themselves known and it's nothing short of his own personal Christmas miracle that he got the food spread out on the island without dropping anything.

“Hey, Will,” he called out, setting the glasses of wine down on the kitchen table. He heard Willy walk towards the door and he turned, wanting to see Willy’s reaction, hoping it would be positive

Willy walked into the kitchen and promptly froze at the sight of everything on the island. 

Gabe had given Tyson pages worth of dishes that Willy would like to choose from and it had taken Tyson an embarrassingly long time to narrow things down but he'd finally managed: mushroom soup, mashed potatoes, kale salad, meatballs, and, most importantly, _kanelbullar_, cinnamon buns that Gabe had said Willy was particularly fond of, and _pepparkakor_, a ginger snap that smelled incredibly Christmassy in the best possible way.

Willy still hadn't said anything and Tyson’s nerves were back in full force, worst case scenarios rolling around in his head.

“Um,” he said. “Do you...I mean, is this...okay?”

Willy laughed incredulously, eyes meeting Tyson’s, wide and impossibly blue and—

“Oh, fuck,” Tyson scrambled closer to Willy, arms reaching out and then stopping just shy of Willy’s waist, unsure if he'd be allowed to soothe him like that, “This wasn't supposed to make you cry.” Willy just laughed again, that endearingly weird sound, and leaned forward just slow enough to give Tyson half a second to clue into what was about to happen.

Kissing Willy, it turned out, was as lovely as Tyson had thought it would be, as was the brilliant smile Willy gave him when he pulled away.

“So I take it you like the food then?” Tyson asked, trying for some semblance of cool around the stupidly wide grin on his face.

Willy rolled his eyes, “I like _you_, dumbass, but yeah, I guess the food’s pretty good too.”

“Oh,” Tyson replied, utterly dumbstruck, “Well. That’s good then.”

Later, after the leftovers were packed away and the dishes and counters had been cleaned, Tyson was sprawled out against the arm of the couch, Willy leaning back against his chest and a movie on the TV. Tyson had one hand carding through Willy's hair and the other occasionally touching the cool metal of the crown charm on the necklace Willy had brought for him. Every so often, Willy looked away from the screen to smile at him, or touch the charm of the necklace, or lean up to press a kiss to his cheek, looking so incandescently happy that Tyson thought they might both burst with it. He thought, as he pressed a returning kiss to Willy's temple, that wouldn't be such a bad way to go.

**Author's Note:**

> why yes, "incandescently happy" is specifically from pride & prejudice 2005 because that movie has ruined my romantic expectations from age nine onward, why do you ask?


End file.
